He inhaled the fresh air and felt empowered. Although the sea was not exceptionally turbulent, neither was it remarkably calm. Every now and then, as the ship heaved with the mildly rolling seas, the prow would dip low and cool fresh water splashed into the prow. Shalthazar did not mind; the coolness of the fresh water felt good on his face. They had been at sea for nearly ten days; five days ahead of schedule thanks to the prevailing tail wind he had been able to quietly facilitate.
“Landfall should be any day now, Prophet-General,” said the grizzled Admiral Maynar, joining him at the prow of his command vessel.
“Good. Inform your captains, Admiral; the enemy fleet races to meet us.”
Shalthazar had performed the simple scrying Sigilspell during the night and he was able to estimate the distance to landfall.
“Ilian Nah blessed me with this information in my dreams last night. Send word to the other lead ships to drill the Marines and Roughnecks for battle. These barbarians possess a skilled fleet and there will be a fight by tomorrow night.”
“Aye, aye, Prophet-General. It will be as you command.” The loyal admiral grinned as he turned and entered the ship’s bridge. Shortly after, messenger hawks were dispatched carrying orders to the other ships of the fleet.
Shalthazar was content to feed small bits of information to the commanders allowing him to remain somewhat aloof, yet still in control. This helped him to hide his lack of knowledge and allowed him plenty of time to master advanced concepts of the Sigils in his spellbook. He preferred to let tactical matters be handled by his subordinates, and chose to concern himself only with preparing a powerful show of magic. He was certain such a display would help troop morale and lend confirmation to his already legendary powers. He was, however, supremely confident that the battle-hardened Marines, and the powerful “cannons” of this Nashian fleet would destroy any enemy opposition.
The elf was thoroughly delighted to learn that the Nashians had begun to use gunpowder effectively in large-bore weapons. Smaller weapons were being developed but the stability of such weapons was largely unreliable, often resulting in the death of the wielder. The large iron cannons however, were so immense that they were impervious to the explosive nature of the gunpowder and only rarely caused the death of their gunners. The massive weight of these weapons made them expensive to build and there were but two on each ship; one port and one starboard. It also forced shipbuilders to develop larger, sturdier ships to carry the extra weight. An unintended benefit of these massive ships was the ability to carry larger numbers of troops and cargo. But the guns were very slow to load, so they were used sparingly in battle.
From what Shalthazar knew of the Western Realms of Llars, there were no military powers strong enough to stand in the way of his forces. It was a land divided. The realms to the east were dominated by the vicious and chaotic Vaard Kings, a race of fierce humans who supported their nomadic economy by piracy and mayhem. The middle of this continent was populated sparsely by self-sustaining city-states, mostly situated around the many great lakes and rivers of the land. Then, there were the Cklathlands; a collection of island and mainland nations of humans calling themselves Cklathmen. Formidable fighters were they, and known to unify against outward threats. Bordering the Cklathlands to the west was the formerly mighty Sargan Duchy; the ancient seat of the old, and little-remembered, Steel Empire. To the west and north of Sargan Duchy was Alfheym, land of the Crimson Elves. A faraway, yet significant, threat to his plans.
Far to the south, across a chain of islands that once formed a land bridge between the northern and southern continent, known as the Broken Isles, sat the Arnathian Empire. The Arnathians of the lower continent were the only power that could pose a significant military challenge should they choose to push their territory north; but they were a distant threat and would be dealt with in due time. Although that mighty empire had been indomitable across the southern continent, his spies had been consistently reporting instability among the social and military classes, and a looming threat of civil war. The devious elf would do his best to aid that particular enemy in defeating itself.
True to the Prophet-General’s word, enemy long ships were spotted on the horizon the next day. Messenger hawks dispatched from the lead ships reported as many as forty of the smaller, but more maneuverable, enemy long ships. The Prophet-General knew that the enemy fleet was fast and could get in between his massive warships with ease; he was counting on it.
“My Lord,” spoke the Admiral. “The forward ships have engaged the enemy.” Shalthazar could hear the booms of cannon fire in the distance.
“Excellent, Admiral-” the Prophet-General stopped in mid-sentence upon hearing shouts from the lookout.
“Enemy ship to port! Enemy ship to port! Long ship inbound fast! Long ship inbound fast!” came the excited voice of the lookout in the crow’s nest high above the main mast.
“Admiral, you have your orders,” he said, briskly walking to the port side of the ship.
His keen Elvish eyes saw what the human lookout did not; there were three enemy ships racing their way. A sliver of doubt entered his mind and his brow creased ever so slightly. By now the rest of the elf’s fleet had engaged the enemy to the front; this was an unexpected flanking maneuver. The dark elf mentally rehearsed the tracing patterns of the powerful Shadow Sigils. He closed his eyes and focused inwardly, allowing his mundane sight to shift, revealing the arcane world to him in colorful hues. Each color ebbed and flowed in its own way, swirling, blowing, and splashing in the rolling waves, yet visible to none but him. He focused on the one color that mattered to him, black.
As the Black Tide flowed and swirled, he reached his hand out and traced the necessary gathering Sigil in the air. Immediately the Shadow Tide began to flow toward his outstretched hand and he pulled the dark energy inward, his body becoming a vessel for the powerful force. Now that he had a significant store of magical energy stored in his own body, he opened his eyes and surveyed the situation. The disciplined men of the Admiral’s fleet were methodically preparing for battle. Some hatches opened, others closed. Cannon barrels were pushed on massive wheels out the portholes in the ship’s hull and locked into placed. The sails were manned and trimmed so that they could be raised quickly in the event there was danger of their destruction. Marine archers and crossbowmen positioned themselves in riggings and swordsmen stood on the decks, ready to repel invaders or to board an enemy ship.
The Silver Dragon maintained its course and allowed the enemy ships to close with them on the port side; Shalthazar was amazed by the speed of the smaller ships! As the first of the ships neared, the elf saw that the decks were lined with wicked looking barbarian men. They were a rag tag, undisciplined group, yet one man stood out from the others; their captain. The Marine archers by now had been ordered to kill the enemy captain and officers at the first opportunity.
Shalthazar strode to the prow of the Silver Dragon and stood on a small platform.
“My Lord, I must protest, do not stand there!” shouted the ship’s captain, Alarous Faloman. “If you fall into that icy water, you will surely find the Door to Hades!”
The wizard snapped his fingers, an act that would ordinarily have made no sound over heaving waves, roaring wind, and shouting men. However, Shalthazar had practiced this particular snap for several nights and it had precisely the desired effect. A thunderous clap erupted from his hand and black flames crawled up his arm to his elbow. Captain Faloman scowled and turned his attention back to the Marines who were waiting for the fighting to begin. Shalthazar heard the man muttering something to the effect of “sorcerers will be the death of us!” and made a mental note to punish the man later for his insolence.
The elf turned back to face the enemy ship and allowed his powerful display of Shadowfire to envelop his entire body; now the bristling savages looked much less intimidating. As the cutter worked its way closer, sporadic volleys of arrows sailed across the open water, many harmlessly hitting the ship’s lightl
y armored hull. The wizard pointed toward the next pitiful volley and sent a sheet of Shadowfire to meet it; the arrows disintegrated into dust. Abruptly the enemy archers threw down their bows and disappeared from the riggings, apparently more interested in hand-to-hand combat.
The Silver Dragon hit a massive swell, riding it quickly down and into the trough, causing Shalthazar to lose sight of his enemy for a moment. Riding the prow was exhilarating and the cold fresh spray of the sea invigorated him. The wizard grinned as the ship quickly soared up the wave to the crest of the next wave. At that moment a deafening report rang out from below. Then, looking back at the enemy long ship, the elf saw the trail of an object sailing through the air. It struck the rail on the enemy ship, took out two of its sailors, and crashed into the main mast causing the enemy ship to list wildly.
Another volley of arrows flew out from the enemy ship with a surprisingly long range. Trails of smoke told the elf that the Vaard wanted to burn them alive. Shalthazar chuckled, however; strips of very thin but very strong metal had been placed at regular intervals along the hull. The Vaard would have a hard time setting Nashian ships on fire!
The Marines in the riggings resisted temptation to return fire until the enemy was well within range. When the order was given, arrows sailed back across the water to the enemy long ship, whose advance had now slowed to a crawl and was taking on water from the rolling waves. The long ship listed dangerously with the top half of its mast now in the water, its sails dragging in the heaving sea. The Prophet-General saw the men of the enemy ship working feverishly to release a large pin in the bottom of the main mast. When they did, the broken mast detached from the ship and slipped over the side taking a few Vaard with it. The ship righted itself, then oars shot out from the sides of the hull and the cutter began to slowly navigate the heaving waves.
The Silver Dragon had come about and was now heading directly toward the side of the slower moving enemy long ship. While most of the wildly aimed enemy arrows bounced harmlessly off the hull of the Silver Dragon, the Nashian archers returned fire with deadly accuracy. Shalthazar watched as man after man on the main deck of that cutter toppled over before the rest of them decided to raise shields above their heads.
Suddenly there were shouts and a commotion as many of General Nox’s soldiers, who had been waiting in the berthing areas below decks, were being rushed topside. Foot soldiers were positioning themselves on the main deck, preparing to be boarded. The second of the three enemy long ships swiftly approached the Silver Dragon from behind, and Shalthazar hurried aft. Noting that this enemy ship was bearing down rapidly, the elf wondered if they were going to ram the Silver Dragon.
They did.
The Silver Dragon shook violently from the impact as a long wooden ram with wicked spikes tore through the metal sheets covering the Dragon’s hull. The added weight of the long ship caused both ships to heave dangerously in the rolling seas. Shalthazar steadied himself and was forced to expend some more of his stored magical forces to calm the seas around his ship, preventing a disaster from the massive swells. Then he caught sight of the third enemy ship. This one was now bearing down upon them with great speed, preparing to ram the Silver Dragon from the front, where it would trek safely out of range of the Silver Dragon’s guns.
Shalthazar prepared to cast his first Sigilspell and, rather than being apprehensive about the fast approaching enemy ship full of heavily armed brutes, he was giddy with anticipation. The wizard closed his eyes and focused on drawing the dark tidal forces into himself. Then he spoke the command word and traced the Sigil in the air before him. Instantly he was overcome with a rush of potent magical energy!
Shalthazar forced himself to focus, overcoming the intoxicating effect of this powerful magic. Slowly, in answer to the will of his spell, water droplets rose up from the surface of the sea and formed a cloud. As the droplets rose high into the air they took on the shape of a large swirling vortex; it was a tornado of water! Shalthazar willed the storm to do his bidding and a tendril shot out from the aquatic tornado towards the rapidly approaching long ship. The crew of the long ship saw the danger coming, frantically tried to reverse course, but it was too late. The tendril enveloped the ship and lifted it from the water. A bemused grin slipped across the wizard’s face as he watched men dive from the deck of their ship into the cold water of the ocean.
Wickedly, the wizard willed the vortex to spin the enemy ship; faster and faster it spun, turning the beams and planks of the ship into deadly missiles. Finally, the ship broke apart, exploding, sending wooden projectiles hurtling in all directions, some of which struck one of the Vaard long ships. Shalthazar laughed mercilessly as a few of the men on the surviving enemy ship were impaled to its deck. He was especially pleased when a wooden beam hurled through the enemy ship connected with the Silver Dragon, causing an explosion of wooden debris; he knew it must be taking on water!
Survivors floated in the sea amongst the splinters and planks of the first Vaard ship, the second was slowly making its way toward the Silver Dragon under oar power, and the third was stuck fast to the Silver Dragon, though it was fatally damaged. Shalthazar believed things to be going quite well, the Vaard seemed to sense the hopelessness of their situation; their only hope of survival lay in taking the Silver Dragon for themselves. He turned his attention back to the skirmishing on the decks of the connected combatant ships and saw that his men were systematically cutting down the enemy fighters. His troops were handling the undisciplined Vaard quite well, all but for a Vaardic shaman who was lobbing pathetic magical darts into the fray.
Shalthazar once again called upon the Tides to shroud his body in Shadowfire, and his terrifying form stalked across the deck towards the Vaardic long ship. The enhanced strength, hearing, and vision that came with the powerful spell made him giddy. He sent a huge Vaardic warrior flying over the Silver Dragon’s gunnel with one shove; a feat the elf would never have been able to do under normal circumstances. Unable to reach the heavily defended enemy ram, the wizard decided to test his enhanced abilities and leaped across the open water, Shadowfire splitting the air in a trail behind him. He landed in a crouch on the deck of the enemy ship and quickly rose to his feet, Ckatani blades charged, held aloft and coursing with dark flames. Trails of flame followed the elf’s dancing blades as he cut a swath of death through the Vaardic warriors. Finally, he reached the shaman who was now trying to climb the rigging to escape the powerful wizard.
The shaman, dressed in a fur cape and painted leathers with black teeth and dead rodents hanging from his belt, looked down at Shalthazar and repeatedly spit at him, uttering unintelligible words all the while. Shalthazar knew ordinary arcane magic when he heard it, although this magical arcane language was clearly different from that used in his homeland. He filed that thought away too, wondering if the magical language itself had something more to do with the impotence of arcane magic here than the effects of the Fabric. A wispy web of silk materialized from the barbarian’s spittle and wrapped itself around Shalthazar, immobilizing him. The wizard stood very calmly allowing the web to envelop him, giving his enemy hope. Then, seemingly with no effort, Shadowfire erupted from his body and turned the web to ashes. The wizard laughed heartily.
“And I had actually considered taking you prisoner!”
The shaman looked perplexed that his spell had failed him, and he clearly couldn’t understand a word the wizard was saying. When he heard Shalthazar laughing at him, the shaman wet himself from fright. With a shriek, he tried to scramble farther up the rigging and away from the dark wizard, but Shalthazar gave quick pursuit. With his enhanced strength, he grabbed the shaman by the ankle and flung him to the deck below where he landed with a thud; some of his black teeth scattered on the deck around him.
As Shalthazar dropped lightly to the deck he saw that his own troops had not been idle. The Nashian soldiers and Marines appeared to have the enemy troops under control. He dragged the limp body of the shaman back to the Silver Dragon, feeling we
aker by the minute. Gratefully, the elf relinquished the body of the shaman to a pair of Marines who dragged away it somewhere, presumably the brig.
Admiral Maynar found Shalthazar as he returned to the Silver Dragon. “Prophet-General, the Vaard have given up! Our battle is over,” said the Admiral eagerly. “By the holy light of Ilian Nah, we have prevailed against their greater numbers! All blessings to you, Holy One!” the admiral said as he bowed low to Shalthazar.
The Prophet-General nodded approvingly; he turned to see the Marine commander along with the captain of the Silver Dragon leading two manacled prisoners to the bridge.
“Who are those prisoners, Admiral?” asked Shalthazar.
“Let us find out, Holy One.”
The two walked up to the bridge to meet this prisoner. The Dragon’s captain and the Marine commander, stood at attention and saluted the Admiral and their Prophet-General as they approached. The Marine guards glanced respectfully at their superiors but held their prisoners in check with cocked crossbows.
“Admiral, the Silver Dragon is now secure. All hands are accounted for. Five injuries and as many deaths to report,” Captain Faloman reported. “I have sent dispatches to find out how the rest of the fleet is faring. It appears we have drifted far from our course.”
“Good work gentlemen!” returned the admiral. “Captain, how are we going to disengage ourselves from that rat-infested ship of theirs?”
“Sir, the ram of the enemy ship is apparently detachable, as is the main mast,” replied Faloman. “There is a large wooden pin that secures it to the prow of their ship. It is designed to be detached allowing the enemy to disengage after plundering and scuttling their victims’ ship.”
“I see. Disengage that pin, before we sink!” the admiral said. The Marine commander, Colonel Sauger, barked an order and several of his Marines boarded the enemy long ship with a few Roughneck sailors, quickly tending to the ram.
A Tide of Shadows Page 14